Reluctance
by adrift
Summary: “You think I want you? You think that’s why I’m here? I’m not your knight in shining armor. I’m not your prince, Cameron.” [Chapter 10 up] [HouseCam]
1. Remember

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 1 – Remember

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**How do I love thee?  
****Let me count the ways.**

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He hadn't always been like this; an avid addict, sarcastic bastard, no-nonsense doctor with his reputation on the line. Yes, believe it or not, Dr. Gregory House had once been normal.

Those were the days he longed to forget, but at the same time longed to bring back. Her smiling face, her bright blue eyes as he swung her over his head. They were just memories now. His past was something that House did not speak of often, to anybody. He tried to force it from his mind during the day; forgetting about the pain made it disappear, if only for a moment. He got through each and every shift at the hospital in the same way. A couple of pills here, seeing a patient there, and more pills. Dr. House lived by routine. But by chance, one spring day, his routine and his life as he knew it were interrupted forever.

Her name was Allison Cameron. She was a bright spot in his otherwise monotonous existence. She had waltzed into the Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital on her first day, full of life and friendliness, taking House's feelings for a ride. And all he had done was insult her from the beginning. Of course, Cameron had blamed his sarcastic attitude on stress and had plunked a steaming cup of coffee on his cluttered desk. Soon after, it became a routine, per say, of theirs each morning; Cameron brought him coffee and went through his mail as they discussed the current patients. As much as it pained him to admit it, House looked forward to this. Seeing Cameron's naïve and youthful face took off an edge of hopelessness.

It had been his forty-fourth birthday. Six months to the day after Cameron had joined his team. They had started the day like normal; him sipping his coffee, blaring Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" from his stereo, Cameron pretending that his music didn't annoy her. She had separated his mail into two piles; important and junk. They had never spoken during this morning ritual. It had been a comfortable silence, free of House's comments and Cameron's sweet forgiving.

She had finished with the mail. He had watched her leave, finishing off the last of his coffee. House had then turned his attention to his mail, as he had done every day since Cameron had arranged it for him. However, that day something had been different. An envelope had sat atop the important pile. His name had been written in curvy handwriting; just his name, nothing else. He had opened the envelope with steady hands. He had read it then, silently to himself.

_Dear House,_

_Happy Birthday! Don't kill anyone._

_Love, Cameron_

He had returned the card to its envelope and had placed it in his bottom desk drawer, a place reserved for video games, painkillers, and tennis balls.

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**I love thee to the depth and breadth and height  
My soul can reach when feeling out of sight.**

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Author's Note: My first attempt at House fanfiction. I really want to capture the characters, so any criticism would be helpful. Please leave a review!


	2. Damn the Women

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 2 – Damn the Women

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**If thou must love me, let it be for naught  
Except for love's sake only.**

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Oh, how he hated this day, with a passion as big as Cuddy's funbags! Damn the woman; she had given him clinic duty on his birthday. His protests and complaints hadn't swayed her decision either. He suffered through four hours of runny noses, upset stomachs, and kids crying for their mothers. He wished he had a rock to rock some of those kids to sleep!

Step-thumping away from the clinic as quickly as possible, Dr. Gregory House made his way to his office. He pulled open the heavy glass door, balancing his weight on his good leg. Limping behind his desk, House fell into his chair with a sigh. The days in the clinic were always the longest. Grabbing a couple of painkillers, House swallowed them dry.

There were few things in life that made him happy. Four things he could name for sure; Wilson, good old Wilson, his Game Boy, his Carmen Electra desktop wallpaper, and his music. Currently, House was doing three of the four. Metallica, his current favorite angry music, was blaring from his stereo. Carmen Electra, in all her sexiness, stared at him from the screen of his computer. Mario was exceptionally good today; House was already on level ten after playing for a mere half hour.

Reclined in his chair, feet on his cluttered desk, eyes closed, House was oblivious to the presence of Dr. Allison Cameron. The loud music covered up her entrance, and she was able to walk across the floor to stand across from him before he even looked up. Yawning, House paused his game of Mario and looked up at her. Cocking an eyebrow, he silently asked what she wanted. Cameron folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him as she tapped her foot against the floor. Getting the hint, House flipped the switch on his stereo, killing Metallica and leaving the room silent.

"You're such a killjoy, Dr. Cameron. This better be good," House said.

Cameron, like always, ignored his comment. Uncrossing her arms, she produced a small white envelope from the pocket of her lab coat. Tossing it on the desk, she turned to leave. House watched her retreating form, gaze lingering below her waist. He couldn't help it, but it wasn't every day he saw an ass like hers. It wasn't his fault that she practically flaunted it in his face either.

Pausing at the door, Cameron turned around slightly, catching him. Smiling to herself, she reached for the doorknob.

"Happy Birthday, Greg," she said.

The door closed with a soft whoosh of air, leaving House staring at the place where Cameron had been only moments before. He decided that only she could do that to him; make him feel, perhaps even want.

After a few moments, House's gaze fell on the envelope Cameron had practically thrown at him. His name, in Cameron's curvy handwriting, graced the front. House looked at it, sitting so innocently on his desk. She would never know how much a simple envelope made him weak in the knees (that is, if he had been standing up).

House reached for the envelope, tearing the seal, curious as to what was inside. The card he pulled out was blank; no designs or decorations on the outside, just how he liked them. Something had fallen from the card onto his lap, but he ignored whatever it was for now, enthralled by the words Cameron had written to him.

_Dear House,_

_To me, old age is 15 years older than I am. Happy Birthday._

_Oh, and take Wilson._

_Love, Cameron_

Cameron was 30, House turned 45; fifteen years between them. How dare she call him old? House knew this was one of her little pranks. And she thought she was funny… ha.

House smirked, pondering her words for a moment. Take Wilson? What did that mean? He made a move to stand from his chair, perhaps to seek out Cameron to ask for a translation. However, he never made it out from behind his desk.

When he stood, something fell from his lap onto the floor. House bent to retrieve the fallen object. It was another envelope, much smaller than the last. He reached into it, pulling out a pair of tickets. Tickets? He racked his brain for possible bands performing, but came up empty. Finally, he squinted at the small print, nearly recoiling with shock as he read the words.

_New Jersey Jazz Fest – one night only – Saturday the 15th – 7:00 pm_

House could only think of one thing; Wilson hated jazz.

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**But love me for love's sake, that evermore  
Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.**

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Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews! I decided to continue this. Criticism is appreciated, please and thank you. Oh, this chapter is set one year later than the last one. It's House's next birthday.


	3. Make it a Non Date

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 3 – Make it a Non-Date

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**Alas, I thought I knew so much  
Of love, and yet I know so little!**

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_Thump, bounce, bounce, bounce, catch. _House threw his tennis ball against his glass office door in boredom. It bounced back, he caught it, and he threw it against the door again. It was quite exciting… not. No new cases nothing to do. He hated to admit it, but his Gameboy was growing more and more boring. No new games nothing to do. He made a mental note to force Wilson into buying him a new one.

He sat in silence for once, only the sound of his game of catch with the office door interrupting the stillness. It was always quiet whenever House needed to seriously think about something. For a brief moment, his concentration on the tennis ball wavered, and it bounced out of his reach, past his chair and into the back corner of his office. House, aggravated, didn't make a move to get it. Let the damn thing roll away, he had a whole drawer full of them. He leaned back in his chair, cane balanced across his lap, and closed his eyes, rubbing his jaw with his hand.

Wilson witnessed this scene from outside of House's office. With that trademark expression, he pushed open the door and sat in the chair across from House, who had opened his eyes at Wilson's entrance. Noticing the smirk on his friend's face, House glared at him with annoyance.

"What do you want?" he spat.

"Having fun? Did the door throw harder than you?" Wilson teased.

House just looked at him, shaking his head. Sometimes he wondered why he even tolerated Wilson, let alone called him his friend. He sighed and stood from his chair, ruffling a few papers on his desk. Wilson suspected something was going on and was quick to ask.

"Okay, what's up?" Wilson's eyebrow rose and he crossed his arms, looking at House.

House, like usual, denied the question.

"Nothing's up, Dr. Phil," he sarcastically replied.

"Don't give me that. You've been sulking in here all day. You yelled at Foreman, nearly clobbered Chase with your cane, and you won't even look at Cameron," Wilson rattled off a few things.

House shook his head then, stopping Wilson from going any further. However, no sarcastic comment followed, and Wilson knew he had hit the spot. With a knowing look, he continued without hesitation.

"Ah, so your pretty lady doctor has your panties in a bunch?" Wilson guessed.

House snorted, gripping his cane harder with his right hand.

"First of all, she is _not_ mine. And no, my panties are fine, thanks," House retorted.

"Something tells me otherwise," Wilson theorized.

He saw right through House. Ever since Cameron had joined the team, (what was it, one year and six months?), House hadn't been himself. Oh, he was the usual sarcastic bastard, but lately he had been leaning towards the quiet and pondering personality. Wilson, the one who knew him best, possibly better than House knew himself, found Cameron the cause of this whole ideal.

"Let me guess. Cameron gave you a card with puppies on it and wrote something inside that was supposed to be funny. You read it a million times and then, of course, you put it in your bottom desk drawer with the other one," Wilson continued.

House's expression was priceless. He glared down at Wilson, who just smiled and gave him a shoulder shrug. Knowing it was best to give in and save them both some time, House sighed and nodded.

"You're almost right. No puppies on the card," he said, and then added, "how do you know about the other one?"

"Snooping at its best, my friend," Wilson replied with a chuckle.

House limped back behind his desk, letting himself fall backwards into his chair. He sized Wilson up from across his desk, hesitating a moment before continuing.

"You don't like jazz, do you?" House questioned.

"Nah, it's too sappy. Why?" Wilson curiously asked.

"Cameron… she gave me these tickets to the New Jersey Jazz Fest on Saturday. She told me to bring you, but I guess I'll have to find someone else," he stated.

Wilson just shook his head and smiled. They were meant for each other, couldn't they tell? Checking his watch, he yawned and stood from the chair.

"Why don't you ask her?" he said on his way out the door.

House looked up at him, swinging his cane deftly from his fingertips. His eyebrows rose with surprise.

"Like a date?" House asked, almost with disbelief.

"Yeah, except for the date part. Make it a non-date," Wilson said.

"Huh, I don't think so. I'm not really good at that kind of stuff," House replied.

"Give it a chance House," Wilson said, leaving for his own office and patients.

House watched Wilson's retreating form until it disappeared around the corner. He tapped his foot on the floor, pondering Wilson's words in his head. A non-date? That didn't sound too bad. He sighed and stopped swinging his cane, leaning forward until his chin rested on top. It was going to be a long day.

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**For I cannot stop myself loving her  
From whom I shall never have joy.**

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Author's Note: Hehe, I absolutely love Wilson! Please review, I need some encouragement, seeing as this chapter was extremely hard to write for some reason.


	4. Sports Metaphors

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 4 – Sports Metaphors

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**She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies.**

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"Thirty-seven year old male, blurred vision, retinitis and iritis," Cameron sauntered into House's office, reading from the file in her hand.

House, disinterested, looked up from his Gameboy briefly with a raised eyebrow.

"So?" he said, distracted by the game.

Cameron sighed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Mouth sores, skin rash, complained of extreme headache and joint pain-" she paused, "-right before they found the arterial blood clot."

House, now thoroughly paying attention, flipped the switch to 'off' and gently set the Gameboy down. One hand reached for his cane, the fingers of his other tapping against his thigh as he thought. Oh, how he loved a new case!

Standing from his chair with some difficulty, House snatched the folder from Cameron and headed for the door. As a parting thought, he shot a comment over his shoulder.

"Best you find Dumb and Dumber. We have a mystery to solve."

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"Come on, my ducklings," House urged. "What does this guy have?"

He stood at the head of the table, leaning haphazardly against his cane, blue eyes glaring at the three young doctors before him. The patient's symptoms were written on the dry erase board behind him in black marker.

"Give me anything," House ordered.

"An allergic reaction would explain the rash and the headache," Chase was the first to offer something.

House shook his head, tapping his cane on the ground.

"Strike one. Patient history reveals no allergies," House confirmed with a glance at the chart.

Chase, looking rather disgruntled, sunk back into his seat and ran a hand through his hair.

"Lupus – accounts for the rash, headache, and blood clot," Cameron contributed half-heartedly.

"Strike two, my pretty. Wrong kind of rash – there's no butterflying. Besides, the progression of Lupus is less severe," House replied.

By default, it was now Foreman's turn to attempt a diagnosis. He shrugged and avoided House's gaze.

"Strike three and you're out. Sorry Foreman," House taunted. "I want an MRI and a full body scan ASAP."

The ducklings scrambled from their chairs, eager to escape House and his sports metaphors.

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The MRI had revealed minimal brain inflammation; a new symptom that was added to the already long list.

The team sat around the conference table, attempting to come up with a diagnosis. Each had their own way of thinking. Chase read and re-read the patient's file, hoping to find a loophole that would give them some help. Foreman was leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, coat off and tie loosened. Cameron sipped from her coffee, one eye on the dry erase board, the other fixed on House. House twirled his cane from his fingers deftly.

All three ducklings nearly jumped out of their chairs; House had slapped his cane on the table top, jerking them to alertness. With a gaze that could only be described as smug, House reclaimed his place at the dry erase board. He reached for the marker, scribbling something in the top right-hand corner.

"Behçet's disease. It explains everything; blurred vision, rash, headache, blood clot…" House went down the list of symptoms. "Treatment?" he asked the team.

They ogled at him, eyes wide. He never ceased to amaze. Catching their identical looks, House smirked.

"I know, I know. It came out of left field," he joked. "To repeat myself… treatment?"

"Corticosteroids to treat inflammation, Colchicine and NSAIDs for the joint pain and headache," Foreman pulled from his memory.

House nodded and wiped the list of symptoms from the board with the eraser.

The team stood nearly in unison, Cameron gathering the papers that had been spread over the table. Stuffing them into the patient's folder, she turned to leave.

"Dr. Cameron, a moment please. Unless you're too eager to humor your old boss," House called after her.

Cameron paused, knowing immediately what this was going to be about. She about-faced and watched as House made his way from behind the table to stand in front of her. He stopped, probably a bit closer than polite, and started to speak before he ran out of what little courage he had.

"Wilson has a date with the nice nurse from his department tomorrow night," House said, his raised eyebrow implying something.

Cameron, feeling rather daring, took a step closer to House and lifted her eyes to meet his.

"Oh? I thought he'd go to bat for you no matter what," Cameron attempted her own metaphor.

This drew a chuckle from House. Deciding that he was dangerously close to her – close enough to catch a whiff of her strawberry shampoo – House took a step backwards. His grip tightened on his cane as he looked away. Now came the hard part.

"Are you feeling up to dinner and a Jazz Fest?" House questioned.

Cameron just smiled, knowing that she was the cause of his obvious discomfort. She just gave him a look and headed for the door.

"Pick me up at six," she called over her shoulder.

House, who had managed to regain his snark (and therefore his dignity) without her pretty blue eyes to drown in, was close behind her.

"Wear something nice, preferably tight and revealing," House suggested with a nod as his eyes scanned her body.

This earned him a glare from Cameron.

"You're such a screwball," she said before sauntering down the hallway.

House watched her go. Women… at least they tried the sports metaphors. House sighed, leaning into his cane as he popped a couple of Vicodin. Only then did he realize that he had forgotten to tell Cameron this was a non-date.

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**And all that's best of dark and bright,  
Meet in the aspect and her eyes.**

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A/N: Yes! I love this chapter! I tried my hand at a case; don't badger me with insults. Somehow, Cameron and the sports metaphors wouldn't stop coming. I'm sorry – pardon my lack of self control. As always, review review review!


	5. Change

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 5 – Change

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**Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond  
Any experience, your eyes have their silence.**

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He was nervous, damnit! Why the hell was he so nervous! It wasn't a date.

He paced, or rather hobbled, about his apartment, watching the minutes tick by. Cameron's apartment was only a few blocks from his and he wasn't supposed to pick her up until six. It took all of his self control not to be too early.

Quarter 'til six… House paced to his bedroom, shoving open the door with his cane. There, on his bed, was a tie and suit jacket. He scowled, looking into the mirror as he attempted to tie the tie. Cameron better appreciate it; he primped like a damn woman!

Ten 'til six… House shrugged into his jacket, fastening the top two buttons. With a last glance in the mirror that rested on his dresser, he left his apartment, the sound of the slammed door echoing in the emptiness of the now abandoned room.

Five 'til six… House struggled up the flight of stairs to Cameron's apartment. He was slightly out of breath and his leg was on fire. One hand on the door jam to keep his balance, House raised his cane to knock (no, pound) on the door. It was a good thing he still had his reflexes, because moments before his cane would have landed with a rap, Cameron turned the knob and opened the door wide. An amused look crossed her face as House lowered his arm, cane and all, and averted his gaze. _Oh boy, you're in trouble! _

"Good evening, Dr. House. If I had known violence was your creed I would have refused this date of yours," Cameron teased.

_Date! Date! This is NOT a date! _House cleared his throat; the tie around his neck seemed to grow tighter. He loosened it slightly, avoiding the topic of 'date' all together.

"If I had known you could see through doors, I wouldn't have resorted to violence," House replied.

"You were cussing so loudly that everybody in the building heard you!" Cameron admonished.

"Well, if it isn't 'Yell at the Cripple Day'. Stairs aren't the easiest thing, you know, especially in a suit," House said sarcastically.

Cameron ignored his comments, knowing that he was sick of people feeling sorry for him.

"You should dress up more often. It works for you," Cameron complimented quietly, blushing and looking down.

He was wearing his tennis shoes. She laughed lightly, confidence restored.

"I see some things never change," she said, gesturing at his feet.

"Things do not change; we change," House quoted.

Cameron met his eyes with a curious gaze.

"Henry David Thoreau," she said.

House smiled. However small, it still reached his brilliant blue eyes that remained locked with hers.

"I see our pretty lady doctor is well-read," House broke the silence, describing Cameron as Wilson had. The comment was meant to be less-than-sincere, but he had to struggle to even form a coherent sentence.

Cameron didn't say anything in reply. Instead, she grabbed her purse and pushed past House, who still stood in the doorway. With a look over her shoulder, Cameron raised an eyebrow.

"Coming?" she asked.

He gave her a curt nod, avoiding her gaze. House reached into his pocket for the bottle of pills that was a constant in his life. Popping off the cap, he downed two Vicodin and started down the stairs behind her.

Cameron, in all her glory, had taken to mind his advice when she had chosen an outfit. Her dress was red and clingy, hugging her body in all the right places. It tied behind her neck, beneath her hair (which was down, House noticed), leaving her back exposed. House kept his eyes on her during the journey down the stairs. Only when they reached his car did he get control of himself and stop staring. It wasn't exactly in his non-date policy to be fantasizing about his hot female coworker.

House climbed into the driver's side, resting his cane across his lap. Usually he put it in the passenger's seat, but tonight that particular spot was occupied by Cameron. She looked natural in his car; her bare legs stretched in front of her and her hands played with the seatbelt that was pulled tight over her hips. House started the engine, trying not to notice that the red of Cameron's dress matched the red Corvette perfectly.

"Hold on," he grumbled.

He gunned the car into reverse, zipping from the parking spot in record speed. Shifting into drive, he high-tailed it out of the lot and into traffic before Cameron could change her mind.

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**In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,  
Or which I cannot touch because they are too near.**

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A/N: Okay, I'm stalling. I don't want to write the date scene! I like how this story is going and I don't want to mess it up! It's coming next chapter though, I promise. How did you like this one? Review my darlings.


	6. Licensed to Kill

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 6 – Licensed to Kill

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**Though the sound overpowers,  
Sing again with your dear voice revealing a tone.**

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They couldn't have talked in the car if they wanted to; House had the stereo on, blaring The Who from the Corvette's sound system. The top was down, much to Cameron's delight, and her hair was caught in the wind, whipping around her face.

It was just beginning to get dark when they arrived at the restaurant. It was a fancy place, although House denied that there was any romantic atmosphere involved. He whipped into a parking space and cut the engine. By the time he had unbuckled and opened the door to get out, Cameron was standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed, tapping her foot with mock impatience. House sent her a glare and grabbed his cane, slowly exiting the car and trailing behind.

The place smelled of vanilla candles and red wine. House wrinkled his nose as he stepped through the door; definitely too girly. He mentally crossed the restaurant off of the list in his head. Next, House caught sight of the boy (obviously waiting for him to announce his name so he could lead them to their table) standing behind the pedestal. He was short and scrawny with shaggy blonde hair that hung in his face. Even the tux he was forced to wear for the job didn't help. Glasses perched on the end of his nose, House knew at once that the boy was trying to act older than he actually was. Taking this all in, House very nearly turned and fled from the restaurant to avoid him; he hated teenagers. Cameron noticed this as well and hovered behind House, preventing him from moving any direction except forward. She jabbed an elbow in his back, giving the boy (who by now was staring at them) a forced smile. Grumbling, House slowly shuffled forwards; this could be fun.

"Name?" the boy asked.

"Dr. James Wilson," House responded with a straight face.

The boy swallowed, looking for the name in the reservation book. House lingered in front of him, patiently waiting, eyes boring holes in the top of the boy's head. After a few tense moments, the boy (Zack, by his nametag) looked up.

"I-I'm sorry sir, but there are no reservations under the name Dr. James Wilson," Zack said cautiously.

Cameron hardly managed to contain her laughter. She looked at House from the corner of her eye, wondering how long he would let Zack think he was Wilson.

"Look again," House demanded.

Apparently a bit longer. Zack complied, shuffling through the pages of the book once more. The fear was evident on his face as he once again met House's gaze.

"I'm sorry. There isn't a Dr. James Wilson in the book," Zack shook his head.

House narrowed his eyes and leaned on his good leg, allowing Zack to see his cane for the first time. The teenager's eyes got big and he visibly cowered; he read House's invisible message. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of a cane when it was used like a baseball bat, Zack took a few steps back, putting more distance between himself and House. Gathering his courage, he spoke again.

"Look sir, I'm sorry but I can't let you have a table. We're busy and you need reservations. You aren't in the book so I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Zack stated.

This did it for Cameron. Something about this scrawny teenager attempting to stand up to House got to her. She broke into a smile, trying (but failing) to keep the giggles from coming. House, amused, sent her a glance.

"Of course I'm not in the book, _Zack_," House said.

This confused Zack. He gave House a look that begged for explanation. House closed the distance between himself and Zack with a few steps. Reaching over the pedestal, he extended his hand to Zack.

"Dr. Gregory House, licensed to kill," House uttered.

Zack accepted the handshake, afraid of what would happen to him if he didn't. House let his hand fall back to grasp the cane that had been leaning against his leg.

"Now, if you don't mind," House started, "check the book again. Make sure you look for the right name."

Soon after, House and Cameron found themselves seated at a table for two. They were situated near the middle of the dining room, a fairly busy place. Despite the dim lights and quiet conversations, House still felt like everybody was watching him. He focused on the dinner menu, making it through the appetizers before Cameron spoke.

"Red or white?" she asked.

House, hardly oblivious that the waiter had approached their table, looked up with a smirk.

"Hmmm… I'd have to say red. It compliments your complexion very nicely," House said.

Cameron rolled her eyes at him and lifted her gaze to the waiter.

"Red please," she decided for them.

The wine was brought to their table and House could hardly keep the sarcastic comments to himself when the waiter poured it for them. He picked up his glass and Cameron did the same.

"To Wilson," he toasted.

"To Wilson," she echoed.

The clink of glass on glass settled it.

Their talk was casual, the usual light banter between them remaining unchanged. However, something didn't feel quite right. House was bored, and he could tell that Cameron was as well. Her gaze kept flickering up over his shoulder, to the clock that hung on the wall. With an exasperated sigh, House set his wine glass on the table with a clank and reached for his cane.

"I think we picked the dud of all fancy restaurants," he said. "Let's bust this joint."

"No one could put it better," Cameron replied.

House tossed a few bills onto the table to pay for their drinks. They managed to make it as far as the entryway before Cameron realized she forgot her purse. She left House alone, hurrying back to the table. House leaned against the wall by the door, surveying the crowd around him as he watched her go. Ah, Zack was still here! House limped towards him, prepared to taunt some more, but he was interrupted by Cameron's hand on his arm. She had surprised him; he looked at his arm, as if to make a point that they were touching, before saying anything.

"I wasn't going to do anything, honest," he lied.

Cameron tugged at the sleeve of his jacket before releasing his arm from her grasp.

"Let's go," she said.

It was only six-thirty. They hadn't even ordered their food (that's how bored they were). They walked side by side to House's car, Cameron's heels and House's cane thumping on the walk.

"I want to drive your car," Cameron's wistful voice broke into his thoughts.

He looked at her closely. Reaching into his jacket pocket, House retrieved his precious car keys and held them up, jingling them in front of her face. Cameron's hand stretched out to snatch them from his grasp; the jingling was annoying her.

"What are you waiting for? Let's get this show on the road," House started for the passenger's side.

Cameron just stood there, the keys cold in her hand.

"I can't," she said.

"Jeez, it's not like I asked you to marry me," House replied.

Cameron, exasperated, threw up her hands in agitation.

"No… I _can't_," she said. "Meaning that I don't know how."

"Goodness, Dr. Cameron. How long does it take you to walk to work then, if you can't drive a car?" House teased, trying to hide his confusion. "About two hours? Three?"

"I can't drive a stick," she confessed, interrupting him.

House was flabbergasted.

"You can't? Didn't you grow up on a farm?" he asked.

"Yes, but my brother always drove the tractors," she said.

An amused look crossed House's face. He regarded her for a moment, testing her sincerity. Cameron crossed her arms, a matching look on her face. In a few steps, House was by her side. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the keys from her hand and opened the driver's side door. He noticed that the metal was warm from her grasp.

"Get in," he said.

Cameron made her way around the front of the car to climb into the passenger's side. With a thoroughly confused look aimed at House, she spoke again.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You really think you could learn to drive my car in a parking lot this small?" he answered. "Relax. We'll be back in time for the music."

Cameron smiled, sinking back into the leather seat.

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**Of some world far from ours,  
Where music and moonlight and feeling are one.**

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A/N: Okay, totally not what I expected this chapter to be like. Did you enjoy? Leave lots of reviews. Boy that was a quick update! If you're nice, I'll get the next chapter up before I leave for Costa Rica.


	7. Apology Accepted

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 7 – Apology Accepted

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**You smiled, you spoke and I believed,  
****By every word and smile – deceived.**

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House parked the car five minutes later. They were sitting in a large parking lot, empty of cars. It belonged to a big business, most likely bustling during the day. For now though, it suited their purpose perfectly.

House left the engine running and slowly got out of the car, Cameron following suit. They switched places quickly. House, settled in the passenger's side, buckled his seatbelt with a sigh. This earned him a look from Cameron.

"What's with the seatbelt?" she asked.

"Just a precautionary measure," he stated with a raised eyebrow.

"It can't be that hard…" Cameron trailed off as he glared at her.

He chuckled lightly; it would be hell on his car and on him. Running a hand through his hair, House managed to start with the instructions.

"Okay, let's get started. First things first – if you break my car, I'll break you. Comprende?"

Cameron nodded slowly. Something about his tone told her that he would keep to his word.

"Good," he said. "Now, for the hard part. If you look down and to the left, you can see a pedal. That's the clutch, the most important part."

He let his gaze travel down Cameron's outstretched leg to land on the clutch. Her foot was bare; only then did he realize that her heels were resting on the floor next to him (smart girl). He swallowed slowly and returned his attention to her face. Cameron was looking at him, awaiting the next instructions.

"What you're going to need to do is this; when you push on the gas, let up on the clutch and vice versa. Shift when you push on the clutch. You'll be able to hear the engine," he rattled off.

Cameron nodded. All of this made sense to her; she wasn't that ignorant. The problem was doing all of that at the same time. Determined to learn however, she didn't voice her concerns to House. Instead, she set her jaw and readied herself. Left hand on the steering wheel, right hand prepared to shift, left foot by the clutch, right foot near the gas.

"Okay, now slowly shift from neutral into first as you let up on the clutch. Don't press the gas yet," House instructed.

Cameron did as she was told. The car moved forward very slowly. House was relaxed so far, but they couldn't stay in first gear forever. He took a deep breath.

"Let up on the clutch and push the gas. Shift from first to second as you accelerate," he said.

Easier said than done. Cameron tried though. She managed to make the car speed up, but didn't manage to shift at the proper time. The most unpleasant noise she had heard started coming from the engine of the red Corvette. It was in too low of a gear and she didn't know what to do. The car was speeding up and House was leaning forward in his seat, nearly screaming at her.

"Damn it Cameron! Shift!" he yelled. "Shit! My car!"

Cameron dissolved into a fit of giggles. By now, all of her concentration was lost. She was amused by House, flailing in the passenger's seat, trying to get her and the car managed.

"Clutch! Brake! Damn it!" House shouted.

Cameron's left foot pressed the clutch, her right one pushing the brakes lightly. House's hand covered her own as he shifted them down into neutral again. His precious car lurched forward one more time before coming to a stop.

"You're out of control, woman!" he scolded. "Get out!"

They were both breathing hard. Cameron's face was red from laughing; House's was red with anger. He yanked off his seatbelt and stomped (as much as possible) from the car. He threw open the driver's side door and grabbed Cameron's arm with more than a little force. She stumbled from the car and House climbed in. Cameron smoothed down her dress and wiped the smirk from her face before taking her place next to him in the passenger's seat. So much for learning to drive his car.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped them. Cameron didn't dare look at him. House sat, hands on the wheel at 10 and 2, fingers drumming a rhythm on the leather. Cameron buckled her seatbelt and strapped on her shoes before sneaking a glance at him. He could feel her gaze and he turned to look at her.

"I think an apology is in order," he said quietly.

Cameron sighed with relief, opening her mouth to say something. He cut her off.

"My car is feeling a bit stressed. Perhaps you have something to say to it?" House wasn't joking.

He wanted her to apologize to his car? What in the world was wrong with him? Cameron was about to get angry, but the sparkle in his eye gave him away. She weighed her options and decided that complying with him would be the quickest way to get over this.

"I'm sorry," she said with as much sincerity as she could muster.

"Apology accepted. No hard feelings, eh?" House cocked an eyebrow at her.

Cameron knew that he wasn't talking about the car anymore.

"No hard feelings," she nodded, eyes meeting his.

House, a bit disgruntled, tore his gaze from her and cleared his throat. How he'd make it through the rest of the night was anyone's guess. He started the car and flipped on the radio, choosing a loud and obnoxious song to kill whatever mood they had going just then.

"Jazz Fest here we come!" House muttered.

He squealed the tires as he sped from the parking lot.

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Ten minutes later, the car was parked and they were in their seats in the front row. The usher, seeing that House was 'handicapped', had nearly forced them to the front. Of course, House had protested, but Cameron's hand on his arm, pushing him along, had won. So, gifted with the best seats in the house (no pun intended), the two of them sat in companionable silence.

The auditorium was filled with people, most dressed to the nines. Apparently this was a fancy show – good thing House had forced himself to wear a suit. He let his gaze wander, from Cameron to the stage to the people, then back to Cameron. She was folding and unfolding a program in her hands, looking rather enthralled. He watched her for a moment and was about to speak, but fell silent as the first piano notes rang out.

The lights were dimmed and the pianist played on.

House closed his eyes and leaned back in the plush chair, tapping out the rhythm on his thigh.

Now it was Cameron's turn to watch him. She was mystified by his seemingly complete relaxation. It dawned on her that he was comfortable, maybe even happy. House, feeling her stare, cracked open an eye and gave her a questioning look.

Cameron just smiled and fixed her attention back on the music.

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Three and a half hours and many songs later, House and Cameron walked from the auditorium into the cool night air, side by side. House was unusually quiet and Cameron noticed this. It wouldn't be a good idea to ask him why, so she settled on a simple question to break the silence instead.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked.

House, torn from his trance, looked at her for a moment before replying.

"Yes. It was…" he paused, "I had a good time."

There was no way in hell he would ever use the word 'fun' to Cameron. He meant it though, and she knew it. Damn, this woman was getting to him.

They walked in silence to House's car. Cameron had insisted that he purchase a CD of the concert on the way out, so he played the calming music to avoid conversation. At 11:15, House zoomed into a parking spot at Cameron's building and cut the engine. The music died and they were left in stillness. It seemed like forever before Cameron finally spoke.

"Do you want to come up for coffee or something?" she asked hopefully.

House didn't look at her right away. He stared at his hands that rested in his lap. Blue eyes met green in a look that told her everything she needed to know.

"It's late…" House said softly.

"Oh… okay," Cameron replied.

House felt the need to break the tension with a joke.

"I don't want to miss my late night shows. That David Letterman is a hoot."

"Have fun," Cameron nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Don't look so upset. Monday is closer than you know it," House said. "Unless you can't stand to be away from me for that long?"

Cameron sighed and opened the car door.

"Goodnight House," she said.

He could sense that things were different. Impulsively, House reached out a hand to grab Cameron's arm before she could shut the door.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Sorry that he yelled at her for his car. Sorry that he was such a misanthropic bastard. Sorry that he couldn't give her what she wanted. She could interpret it however she wished.

Cameron's eyes softened slightly as she studied his face in the dim light of the car.

"I'll see you on Monday," she replied.

Apology accepted.

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**But let not this last wish be vain,  
Deceive, deceive me once again!**

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A/N: Wow, sorry it took so long to update. Costa Rica was awesome! How did you like this chapter? It was longer for your enjoyment (hehe). Coming up next… drum roll… I have no idea! Review my darlings, or I'll whack you with House's cane!


	8. You Want, I Need

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 8 – You Want, I Need

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**All the world's a stage,  
And all the men and women merely players.**

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A/N: Sorry about the wait. This chapter should make you happy though! If it doesn't, you have some serious problems. It's extra long, my longest yet I think. Enjoy! Oh, and for the sake of this fic, Vogler came and went, Cameron didn't quit like in the show, and House never had to give a speech. He had to fire someone though, and he still picked Chase. But everybody's still there. Got it? Good. Now read. As a last note, I have no idea how much longer this story will go on, nor where I'm taking it.

Four Mondays came and went. A large black man named Vogler and his $100 million came and went. Thank the Lord for small blessings like Wilson and (daresay it) Cuddy. They saved his ass.

A month since his non-date with Cameron. So far, in their small hospital world, everything was right. There hadn't been a second non-date; House was sure she would pressure him into it. His willpower was wearing down and it was getting harder and harder to deny whatever it was that was going on between them.

Still, House expected her to be more forward than usual. After all, she had asked him 'up for coffee', which he assumed meant 'come up and have steamy sex with me'. As much as he would have enjoyed the latter, House had refused any further interaction with Cameron that night.

It seemed like lately she was going out of her way to avoid him, rather than following him around like a lost puppy. Of course, she still sorted his mail and gave him his coffee every morning. Sometimes, if they didn't have a case, that would be all he'd see of her all day long. He knew as a fact (via Wilson) that Cameron spent the majority of the recent free time in the clinic, working her pretty-lady-doctor-skills on unsuspecting sicknesses.

A tiny part of him missed her.

But he snuffed out that match as soon as the thought came to his head. House did not pine, miss, or long. Those words were not in his vocabulary as far as he was concerned.

One day, about a two weeks ago (Thursday afternoon, 1:12pm, House remembered exactly), they had passed each other in the hall. Cameron, nose buried in a folder, hadn't seen him walking, so he had oh-so-gracefully brushed his arm against hers as he sauntered by. She had looked at him and pushed her glasses up on her nose.

Then she had smiled at him.

A tiny part of him couldn't deny that her smile made his day (his week, his month, his year).

He had looked away with an abrupt nod.

That was the extent of their 'personal contact'. Sure, they saw each other, but House was himself and Cameron was herself. He didn't go out of his way to talk to her (or anyone, for that matter) and she deemed her clinic patients more important than the testy doctor with the bright blue eyes in the diagnostic ward.

All that being said, House decided it was his right to be surprised when she waltzed ever so normally into his office at 4:45 on Friday afternoon.

"Up for coffee?" she asked.

House quirked an eyebrow at her; these were the first words she spoke to him all day. Flipping off his Gameboy, he gathered his jacket and cane and started for the door without answering her. She assumed he wanted to go, so she followed him from the office.

"You're paying," he said at last.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves seated across from one another at the coffee house down the street from the hospital. House sipped from his mug, marveling at the taste of the hot liquid after a long day of boredom. Cameron was quieter than usual; their conversation was rather one-sided.

"You know, if it's possible, this tastes even better when it's free," House attempted.

This earned him a small smirk from Cameron, who now buried her own nose in her mug to avoid an answer. They elapsed into silence once again, and this time House decided to do something about it. Placing his drink rather firmly on the table, he looked across at Cameron with a pointed gaze.

"Cut the crap, Cameron," he said, sounding a bit meaner than he intended.

She blinked, startled from her thoughts at his sudden outburst. However, she still wouldn't answer; rather, she gave him a look that dared him to go on. He did.

"What's the deal? Is it just me, or have you been unusually distant lately?" he questioned. "You know that's my job – I've reserved sullen, angry, bitter, and any other descriptive adjective in that category," he said.

"There's no deal, House," she answered calmly, undisturbed by his rant.

He sighed, knowing by the look on her face that she was lying. He pushed further.

"Where have you been lately?" he asked.

"You know… I've been busy," she said, avoiding his gaze.

"Busy doing what?" he was getting annoyed again.

"The usual; clinic duty, paperwork, Vogler…" she took a breath.

House feigned shock, his blue eyes widening slightly.

"You've been doing Vogler? I bet you pulled a hundred dollar bill from his g-string with your teeth!" he quipped. "Darn, I should have tried that."

Cameron glared at him over the rim of her cup, her green eyes dancing with fury.

"House…" she said his name with that tone.

"Say it again, gives me chills," he mused.

The silence enveloped him again. House was out of wry comments and sarcastic remarks. His attempt at prying information from Cameron had failed. He was a bit surprised; usually the girl was eager to gush her feelings to him. He was pondering this fact when she spoke again.

"What did Vogler want with me?" she asked.

Ah, so that subject came up. House nearly panicked – this was far too close to that forbidden area he did not wish to discuss with Cameron. She was referring to the incident involving House having to pick one of his team members to fire. Of course, he had picked Chase, but Vogler wouldn't have it. When House had refused to pick another, Vogler himself had sought out Cameron, telling her that it was her two weeks notice – she was fired. She had found House and asked for an explanation, which was reasonably granted to her. Before anything could escalate further, Vogler and his millions were gone, thanks to Cuddy and the board. Cameron's job was secure, although her relationship with House had been a bit rocky since then.

"He was never out to get you," he paused. "It was me he was after."

Cameron's look was a confused one.

"Why did he try to get rid of me then?" she asked.

House closed his eyes and sighed, breaking her gaze. A hand went up to his face, rubbing his jaw as he thought of how best to answer that. Opening his eyes again, blue met green as a single sentence was uttered.

"He wanted to make me miserable," House said quietly. "It would have worked, too."

He had the undeniable urge to slap himself silly right then. What the hell was he thinking? House didn't talk about his feelings, let alone admit to Cameron that life without her would be despondent. He needed a serious reality check.

Cameron regarded him silently, watching as a series of expressions crossed his face. He finally settled on one of extreme passiveness, a typical House appearance. Cameron stored his comment away in her mind, choosing wisely not to press the issue. Finishing off her coffee, she stood from the table and slung her purse over her shoulder.

"Bye," she said.

A tiny part of him knew that this goodbye foreshadowed something much more definite.

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Four hours later, a knock on his door roused him from his nap (yes, House napped at 10:00 at night). Jerking awake, he ran a hand through his hair and step-limped from the couch to answer it. He expected Wilson, tossed out of the house again after a fight with Julie. Imagine his surprise when he opened the door and it was Cameron who was standing on the other side.

She had changed since coffee. He took in her appearance – low cut jeans, a red polo shirt that dipped a bit to show some cleavage, hair down, Adidas sneakers. A far cry from her usual neatly pressed business suit and high heels.

He became a bit self-conscious, comparing his wrinkled shirt, baggy sweatpants, and mussed hair to her obviously put together facade. This thought crossed his mind for a split second before he mentally slapped himself; Greg House didn't get self-conscious.

He stepped to the side and allowed Cameron to enter. She glanced around his dimly lit living room, having yet to announce her reasons for visiting him so late. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it as he watched her with amusement. Her hands glided over his things ever so lightly; not rearranging, just touching. It was as if she could get to know him better by going through his clutter. She stopped at the end of the couch by the coffee table and finally spoke.

"I'm quitting," she said simply.

"Quitting what? Hopefully not the gym; wouldn't want to lose that pretty little ass of yours," House joked.

"I'm quitting my job."

This sent House's eyebrows straight into his hair. He regarded her with a cool look, judging her sincerity. Cameron stood tall, eyes never leaving his. He knew this game; he was expected to answer, to beg her to stay, to tell her what she wanted to hear. House sighed.

"Why?" he asked with a cock of his head.

"I'm protecting myself…" Cameron paused, seeing if House would comment. When he didn't, she went on. "This thing with Vogler proved that my job isn't as secure as it appears to be. I need to go somewhere where I'm actually wanted."

He knew her statement had hidden meanings. He chose not to comment, instead taking the safe route.

"You're wanted," he said quietly.

Her eyes softened a bit (so much for the safe route).

"For what? For my skills as a doctor, or for my 'nice piece of art ass'?" she questioned.

House cringed. Her tone wasn't angry or upset; it was rather calm, tinted with a bit of regret or sadness. One day he'd learn to keep his mouth shut.

"You're a great doctor, Cameron, don't doubt it," House said sincerely.

It was probably the first time she'd ever heard him compliment anybody without sarcasm. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

"I need to get away. It's too stressful, too demanding. To top it off, I'm hardly even respected as a doctor," Cameron sighed. "You don't make it easy for me, House."

For a fleeting second, he wished he hadn't been such a bastard to her in the past. But then the feeling was gone, and his eyes met hers in a look of genuine disappointment.

"I know what you're doing Cameron. You're running away, you're quitting. I thought I taught you to suck it up and toughen your emotions, but I guess I was wrong," House said. "I get it now. That's why you were avoiding me – you made the decision to quit a long time ago."

Avoiding the second part of his statement, her green eyes flashed with anger. How dare he insult her like that, after just defending her skills? She had the hardly irresistible urge to punch him.

"So says the bastard of the 21st century," she muttered.

"Yeah, well at least I can face my problems instead of running away," House retorted.

They both knew that was the furthest from the truth that any statement could get.

For the umpteenth time that day, silence overcame them. Cameron held his gaze, each daring the other to look away first. It was House who broke the eye contact.

He shuffled across the hardwood floor, wanting desperately to have a good leg so he could pace. Cameron's eyes followed him and he was acutely aware of her staring. She still stood by the couch, her arms hanging freely at her sides. House stopped limping in front of her.

"You like me," he said.

He knew she did. She didn't have to say it; he could see it in her eyes. The sexual tension between them at that moment could be cut with a knife. Somehow their conversation had switched from jobs to relationships.

"And you like me," she replied.

House didn't even miss a beat.

"How are you so sure about that?" he asked slyly.

She tilted up her chin, eyes filled with something he couldn't quite put a thumb on.

"Everybody lies," she stated softly.

House had to look away, lest he do something rash like kiss her.

He needed a moment to think. House turned his back to her and resumed his shuffling. When he reached the piano, he laid his cane against its side. His left hand skimmed lightly over the keys, playing a few melodic notes as he processed everything that was said in the past few minutes. He spoke suddenly, over the tune, his words echoing in the silence. He still refused to look at her.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what?" she was confused.

"Why do you like me?" House clarified.

Cameron was silent for a long time. She didn't exactly know the answer to the question. Many times she had asked herself the same thing. House was a bastard; he was older than her, bitter, and hated the world. Cameron couldn't help how she felt though, and what she said next was the best she could come up with right then.

"Because you're you," she responded.

This seemed to satisfy him for the moment. He rolled her words around in his head for a while, wondering just what she meant by them.

"I'm nothing special. You could have any guy you wanted," House said to the wall.

She started across the room towards him. Still turned away, he didn't know she was behind him until he felt her warm breath on the back of his neck. Cameron rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment and House stopped playing, bolts of electricity shooting through his body. He had half a mind to shrug off her hand, but whatever sense he had vanished when the aforementioned hand began to slide down his arm.

Cameron tugged at his hand, locking her fingers with his own. He stared at their entwined hands for a moment, hardly believing how right it looked. Thoughts ran through his mind at lightning speed, and he almost missed Cameron's whispered words. Almost.

"You play beautifully," she murmured into his ear from behind.

She pulled his hand towards her, turning him to face her. She was so close. House closed his eyes, savoring the heat that radiated from her body. He refused to meet her gaze; he was afraid he would see something in her eyes that he wasn't ready for.

Cameron's tight grip on his hand loosened, and for a brief second there was no contact. Soon, he felt fingers on his wrist, and she raised his arm until his hand was level with her face. She kissed the center of his palm lightly, causing his eyelashes to flutter against his cheeks.

Then Cameron's lips were on his fingers. She kissed the tip of each one gently, lingering for a moment at the fleshy spot between his thumb and first finger. A wave of emotion swept over House and he shivered. The only contact between them existed on her lips.

Her lips traveled from his fingers, down his hand, and up his muscled forearm. He could hardly feel them, and had the urge to open his eyes and verify that she was still there. Releasing his wrist, Cameron squeezed his upper arm gently.

"I don't care if I could have any guy I wanted," she said faintly.

And then the lips were on his neck. Sucking and kissing tenderly, Cameron made her way up to his ear. She placed a gentle kiss on his jaw, right in front of his ear.

"I want you Greg," she said sincerely.

He opened his eyes – it was a mistake.

House turned his head to kiss her cheek. Now it was Cameron's turn to feel breathless. He nibbled on her earlobe, her soft skin warm against his mouth. Cameron stepped closer to him, making them mere inches apart. Not close enough. House's lips touched her jaw, the only place his body connected with hers. He whispered into her ear.

"Allison…" his voice came out broken.

That was the first time he had ever called her by her first name.

This was too much for Cameron. Her arms flung around his neck and she pulled him flush against her, their lips meeting in a crashing kiss. House's hands were in her hair, tugging the auburn strands with passion.

His leg gave way and he sat on the piano bench with a thud, never breaking the kiss. Cameron followed suit, straddling his lap carefully. Her curls tickled his cheek and her hands were hot on his back. When the need for air was too great, she forced herself away from his mouth. She trailed wet kisses down his jaw to the front of his neck, her fingers dipping below the collar of his t-shirt. House's head flew back, his eyes closing again.

When Cameron's left hand slid under his shirt up to his chest, House leaned backwards to balance them and give her better access.

His elbows slammed against the piano keys and both of their eyes flew open with surprise.

Cameron's hands left his body and she removed her lips from his neck. They were both breathing hard, chests heaving as they struggled for mouthfuls of air. They sat there, Cameron on his lap, House's hands on her shoulders to stabilize her, for quiet sometime. House was the first to speak.

"You should go," he said icily.

He was back to avoiding her gaze.

Without a word, Cameron plucked herself from his lap and smoothed her hair. She stood in front of him for a moment, House staring at his shoes.

When he dared to look up, she was gone.

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**They have their exits and entrances,  
And one man in his time plays many parts.**

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A/N: So, what did you think! I love House/Cam! Very shmexy, if I must say. Review, because if you don't, I don't have to continue this!


	9. Dr Dumbo

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 9 – Dr. Dumbo

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**Doubt thou the stars are fire,  
Doubt that the sun doth move.**

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When House arrived at work on Monday morning, two hours late, no letter of resignation rested atop the pile of mail on his desk. House found that strange; if Cameron was so hell-bent on quitting, he assumed she wouldn't waste any time. Actually, he _knew_ she wouldn't waste any time. He stared at his desk for a minute, thoughts churning in his head. With a sigh and a tap of his cane on the linoleum floor, House set out on a mission.

Five minutes later, he stood across from Wilson, giving his friend the death glare of the century. On the short walk from his office to Wilson's, House had formed a coherent hypothesis.

"Did you know Cameron was going to quit?" House accused.

Wilson looked up from his paperwork, raising an eyebrow as he tried to appear clueless.

"Cameron was going to quit?" he asked with mock ignorance.

House sighed deeply, sinking down into the chair closest to him.

"Don't play dumb. You knew," House stated.

Wilson nodded abruptly. It was no use lying to House once you'd been caught.

"She gave her resignation letter to Cuddy two weeks ago," Wilson replied, careful not to let the sympathy show in his voice.

Ah, that would explain him not receiving such a letter.

House was surprised to find that he wasn't angry with his friend for keeping that bit of information from him. Of course, anger was his shield against Wilson and all his questions about his feelings. Sending a last icy look at the oncologist, House stood and limped from the room without another word.

Wilson watched him go, shaking his head. He saw right through House's façade.

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"CUDDY!" he yelled her name as he limped through the glass door to her office.

She was sitting on the sofa, across from a young man with a large nose and rather ugly pair of ears. House scrunched up his own nose at the man and prepared a sarcastic comment, but he was cut off by Cuddy.

"Dr. House, what can I do for you?" she asked.

House looked from her to the man and then back to Cuddy's waiting eyes.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" he joked.

Cuddy sent him a look that made him shut up. Standing from the sofa, she smoothed her skirt and motioned for the young man to stand as well.

"Actually, no you aren't. I have someone to introduce to you," she paused. "Dr. House, this is Dr. Bernard Dubois."

"Bernard? Wow, your mother must have really hated you," House quipped, eyes widening in mock surprise. "How about I call you Dr. Dumbo?" House said, gesturing to the man's rather large ears.

Dr. Dubois frowned and gave House a strange look, which only earned him a sarcastic grin. Growing bored with Dr. Dumbo when the man gave him nothing more to insult, House fixed an intense gaze on Cuddy.

"As nice as it was to meet your little friend, I need to speak with you about something," House said.

Cuddy shook her head.

"Actually, I needed to talk to you," she replied.

At House's inquisitive look, she continued carefully. She knew she was treading on thin ice.

"As you probably know by now, Dr. Cameron has resigned," she paused to gauge House's reaction.

His face darkened and he gripped his cane tighter, but responded with a short nod.

"The vacancy in your staff needs to be filled as soon as possible, so I thought I'd spare you the pain and hire someone myself," Cuddy said.

House sighed with exasperation. That woman could draw out sentences forever!

"How nice of you, Dr. Cuddy! I don't know what to say! I'm in awe. Usually you go out of your way to be a pain in the ass," House jibed.

Cuddy took a deep breath and went in for the kill.

"Dr. Dubois will be replacing Dr. Cameron on your team, starting today," she finished.

House gave her a baffled look. Damn, she sure knew how to kill a mood! His eyebrows rose to his hairline, but he quickly covered his surprise with sarcasm.

"Thanks for the warning, Dr. Cuddy. I could have been more prepared; it's not everyday that I get to break in a new duckling," House said, with a glance at Dubois.

Dubois swallowed and House tapped his cane on the floor. With a glare in Cuddy's direction, he spun as quickly as possible and limped from her office.

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The rest of the day passed in a blur. There weren't any cases to solve, and for once in his life, House didn't have clinic duty. His reasoning was that Cuddy was afraid of him; she should be, after springing Dr. Dumbo Dubois on him this morning!

He sat in his chair, legs propped up on his desk. Ingeniously, he discovered that if he put his cane through the two handles on the glass doors, nobody could open them from the outside. He didn't talk to anybody, even when Wilson and Foreman came and rapped on the glass. He just turned up his IPOD louder and ignored them.

At five in the afternoon, House checked out and headed home. He drove like usual, reckless and fast, and was there in twenty minutes. He was fumbling with his keys, leaning on his cane, when he noticed a suspicious looking envelope taped to his door. He reached out and tore it down, very nearly crinkling it up and tossing it to the side. However, something caught his eye.

'Greg House', in Cameron's handwriting, adorned the front of the envelope.

When he saw this, he almost crinkled it up anyways. But he was curious, so he opened the door and stepped inside to read what she had written.

_Dear Greg,_

_It takes two to speak the truth – one to speak and the other to hear. _

He stopped reading. Apparently she remembered their discussion of Thoreau. He had to smile at that. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

_I'm going to speak now, or rather write, and I want you to hear me out. Obviously, I still quit my job, regardless to whatever happened or didn't happen between us. I want you to know that it wasn't anybody's fault – things happen, people change. I changed. I needed to get away from everything; the hospital, my life, you. _

_To quote Thoreau once again – "a man cannot be said to succeed in this life who does not satisfy one friend." You satisfied me._

_Goodbye House._

_Love, Allison._

_P.S. My new job is at St. Joseph Medical Center in Seattle, Washington. I'm starting as the assistant head of the Department of Microbiology and Immunology. You taught me well! I gave all my flight information to Wilson, but in case you wanted to know… Newark International Airport, Flight #382, gate B-19, departs Monday at 7:30pm._

House read the letter again and again. He had to hand it to her – Cameronhad guts to leave him a note like that. He sighed and leaned slightly, his back resting against the closed door. House's eye scanned the living room, searching for something that would give him a clue as to what he should do next. His gaze landed on the phone.

House limped across the room, folding Cameron's note and putting it in his jacket pocket as he walked. He dialed a familiar number, waiting impatiently and counting the rings.

"Hello?" Wilson said.

"Call Cuddy and tell her I won't be at work for the next few days," House stated.

"House, is that you?" Wilson guessed.

House rolled his eyes.

"Of course it's me. Now will you _please _relay that message?" House asked.

"Only if you tell me why you're skipping out," Wilson reasoned.

"I'm going to Seattle," he slammed the phone down before Wilson could reply.

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**Doubt truth to be a liar,  
But never doubt that I love.**

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A/N: Wow, didn't see that coming. Yeah, he's going to Seattle. Humph. Oh well. Please review! The 90th reviewer gets House's cane! Whoot! Oh, and a big prize for the longest review. Cackle!

And now, a special thanks to all of my followers: The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien, Val'istar En' Alu, peraevum, Asano, Pheonix's5, fuzzhead1424, orangeangel, jeevesandwooster, ClampLover, Regina Halliwell, RaeAnne, rochel, Randa05, Red Maridia, goodgirl81, a, Mrs Boyscout, sarah, Rain, Jessica S, SP'sGirl, sidleidol03, Belligerent-road-pylon, Mollisk, Oracle Phoenix, HouseNCameron, KatelynnLynn, Ellie, Avril13, Moonstruck88, sgr11, Avelynn Tame, podgirl, Verity Kindle, Teenwitch, JessiBel, Mishelle20, Nikelodean, A. Heiden

I better get a lot more reviews than the last chapter! Keep it up!


	10. The Master Plan

_Reluctance  
_Chapter 10 – The Master Plan

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**You with the dark burly hair and the breathtaking eyes,  
Your inquiring glance that leaves me undone. **

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"Now boarding flight number three eighty-two, to Seattle," a woman's voice spoke over the microphone.

House stood from the uncomfortable airport chair and dry swallowed a Vicodin, his boarding pass clutched in his left hand.

"We ask those passengers holding first class tickets, those traveling with small children, and those requiring special assistance to please board at this time," the same woman's voice instructed.

House, with a furtive glance over his shoulder, discarded his coffee cup in the trashcan on the way to the gate. He glared at the woman attendant who offered him help, flashing his first class ticket in her face.

"Right this way, sir," the woman gestured.

He hobbled down the ramp leading towards the plane. As usual, the crew was waiting by the door to greet the oncoming travelers. One flight attendant, rather blonde and bubbly, gave House a beaming smile.

"Welcome! Thank you for choosing our airline! We hope you enjoy the flight!" she recited.

House, amused, winked at her and gestured to the back of the plane while making a rather inappropriate comment.

"I'd enjoy it a lot more if you were waiting for me in the bathroom," he paused, "topless."

The stewardess was quite appalled. She raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge his seriousness. House didn't let his gaze waver; his blue eyes pierced into her muddy brown ones. A flush rose into her cheeks as he stared at her. House chuckled and winked again before making his way slowly down the aisle.

Ah, got to love first class! The leather seat was big enough for two of him, plus his cane, with room to spare. There was a TV screen imbedded into the seat in front of him, ready and waiting, complete with DVD player and a jack for headphones. House fiddled with it for a moment before stretching out on the seat sideways, his back by the window. Luckily, his seat was on the left side of the plane (if you were facing forwards). It allowed him to prop his bad leg up on the seat beside him, unoccupied for now, while his good leg rested, slightly bent at the knee, toe tapping on the floor. His cane lay abandoned on the ground by his feet.

Just as he was settled, a rather buff-looking man in a business suit stopped next to him. The man consulted his ticket, looked at the numbers over his head, then back at the ticket again. Laptop in hand, the man finally said something to House, who for the past minute had been staring at him like he grew another head.

"I think that's my seat," he gestured to where House's leg was draped over the leather.

"Oh, that's nice," House replied with a shrug.

The man, expecting House to move, was rather disgruntled when House looked back down at the Gameboy in his hands.

"Would you mind moving?" the man asked carefully.

"Yes," House said simply.

Mr. Businessman narrowed his eyes and stood tall to his full height. He now towered over House, who remained lounging across both seats.

"Let me rephrase that. Move now," the man demanded.

House pressed 'pause' on his Gameboy. Fumbling on the floor, he found his cane. He laid it across his lap, quirking an eyebrow at the man. By now, the traffic was backing up in the aisle. A bubbly voice foreshadowed a solution to House's problem.

"Excuse me, excuse me," the blonde stewardess pushed her way to their aisle. "What seems to be the problem here, gentlemen?"

House immediately portrayed the bullied cripple.

"This nice man here won't give up his seat to an old cripple," House pouted. "I need the extra leg room."

The businessman, who by now had realized it would be to his benefit to be agreeable, shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry," he said.

"Sir, you can sit over here," the stewardess directed him across the aisle, flashing a look at House.

With a smug look on his face, House settled back to his previous position and picked up his Gameboy once again.

By now the coach passengers had started to board. It was inevitable that he would have to face Cameron soon. That was one thing he hadn't considered; what in the hell was he going to say to her? Of course she would want to know why he was on her plane. He'd think about that later.

As it turned out, later was soon enough. He happened to look up just as she was getting on the plane. She was beautiful, and House immediately locked his eyes back on his Gameboy. Maybe she wouldn't notice him.

"House?" Cameron asked cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

No such luck. Sighing, he flicked off his Gameboy and met her gaze.

"I'm going to Seattle. Wonderful city, rains a lot," he replied calmly.

She stared at him, dumbfounded. He watched the mix of emotions pass across her face, and suddenly her features clicked into place; resentment.

"House!" she warned, her voice getting shrill.

House sighed again and reached into his jacket pocket. As Cameron stood there, blocking traffic, he unfolded her note and read it again.

"I needed to get away from everything, the hospital, my life, you-" he mused.

Cameron grabbed the note from his hand, furious and flushed. Crumpling it into a ball, she tossed it back to him. Eyes blazing, she spoke with a controlled voice.

"We'll talk about this later," she said, stomping off to her seat in the back of the plane.

House watched her go, something dancing across his face. Amusement, perhaps? He didn't really know how she would react exactly, but he guessed right when he thought anger. House 1, Cameron 0.

An hour later, just as House was drifting off into a Vicodin-induced sleep, Cameron was ready to talk. He felt a warm hand on his arm, urging him to wake up. Shifting, he opened his eyes a crack and saw her standing there. House sat up and moved his leg, allowing her to sit in the seat next to him. She was quiet, a gentle warmth seeping from her body into his.

"I assume this is later, which means you need to talk?" House broke the silence.

Cameron sighed and leaned her head forward, the curtain of her hair hiding her face from his gaze.

"I'm sorry for getting upset," she began.

"Justifiable," House replied.

"I just didn't know how to react," she paused. "It was a shock."

He didn't say anything so she continued.

"A part of me was angry at you because you treated me like crap the last time I saw you," she stopped.

He cringed with the truth of her words.

"But the bigger part of me was ecstatic that you actually want me enough to follow-" here he cut her off.

"You think I want you? You think that's why I'm here? I'm not your knight in shining armor. I'm not your prince, Cameron," he spat.

He knew he was lying to himself.

Her expression changed from calm to confused.

"What about the kiss?" she asked.

"The kiss was a mistake. I don't know why I let it happen," he sighed.

He was lying through his teeth. The moment the words were out his mouth, House very nearly regretted them. Very nearly.

"Then why are you here, House? What do you want?" she persisted.

"I'm here because I want you to come back to work. Cuddy hired a dumb-ass as your replacement," he effectively changed the topic from feelings to business.

"I thought we already discussed this, House. I can't come back to work," she inhaled. "Nothing you can do will change that."

"Not even chasing you to Seattle?" House pondered.

She shook her head, eyes downcast.

"No."

He never thought about what he'd do if his master plan didn't work.

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**There is no book anywhere on the matter,  
Only as soon as I see you do I understand.**

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A/N: Okay I lied. New chapter for you all! I hate it though… I guess it feels too repeated, except this time they're on a plane. Oh well. I started the first half a long time ago and just finished the second. Seems kind of choppy. This is definitely not where I thought this story was going to go. At this rate, I'll never be done with it! Gap! Review please, tell me what you think. Also, check out my new story, Always Me!

Belligerent-road-pylon, guess what you get? The subject of my next musing will be greatly influenced by your ideas! (hint, hint) Toss 'em this way!

I was reading over some House stories and found that somebody did, in fact, send Cameron to Seattle. I apologize for using the same place! I could swear that it was in an actual episode, that's why it seemed so familiar. If it needs to be changed, I'll take care of it.


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